Bite Me
by xHearMyHowlx
Summary: Subject: that garlic Quirrell kept around. His fear of Snape... hmm... "What If" story on if Snape was a vampire...
1. Prologue

"Yes master, anything, I'll do anything m-master."

Lord Voldemort looked toward Quirrell meekly, his red eyes glowing. The young man was shaking like he'd dumped him in the arctic waters. Beads of sweat roll down his face. "Make us become one," was all Voldemort could whisper, he was so weak.

"B-but, what do y-you mean, m-master? Sh-share our b-b-bodies?" He saw Voldemort nod slowly. "How am I supposed to do that?" He swallowed hard.

Lucius Malfoy strode up into the conversation and decided to speak for the Dark Lord, impatient. "Well what do you think? Oh, I know!" He shouted sarcastically. "How about a highly advanced chant that _binds_ two together?" He made a face, turned, and resumed his pacing in front of his large fireplace at the Malfoy Manor.

Quirrell was almost as afraid of Malfoy as he was of Voldemort.

But he decided to do it anyways… Of course it really wasn't _his_ choice…

*A few months later*

"…Introducing our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell!" Albus Dumbledore announced. The other Professors looked down the table, curious. Trelawney kept shaking her head and mumbling under her breath; apparently she thought his presence would bring ultimate disaster. No one believed her. Except, secretly, Professor Severus Snape. He stayed quiet, though.

Snape looked to his left at the newbie. He gave a disapproving glare in Dumbledore's direction. Dumbledore glanced at Snape for the briefest of moments, and furrowed his brow, not knowing what was wrong with _this_ one.

Snape inhaled… and _panicked_. This nervous fellow had _garlic_ on him. When he sat down, his cloak fluttered away and concisely showed he had a whole thing of it hanging around his neck.

When Dumbledore continued his yearly speech and the first years came up to begin sorting, Snape slowly and quietly slipped away through the back exit. He pressed his back against the wall and exhaled, then gulped fresh air.

It was bad enough to bear that _horrible_ perfume McGonagall was wearing, but this was too much. Not _only_ had the newbie easily gotten his favorite position, now he was repelling the enemy. Did he know about Snape's… _issues_? Snape surely wasn't _dangerous_… to teachers…


	2. Midnight Snack

The first day of school was over, finally. Severus Snape was in his office, scratching out lesson plans; like he had anything better to do. His handwriting was barely legible. Something about a sleeping potion… Oh, this job was all too easy for him. With a huff, he dropped his quill and got up, heading toward the door.

His stomach gurgled. Pursing his lips, he began to prowl the castle. He swept the corridors until he was sure everyone had gone to bed, including the other professors. A malevolent smirk crossed his lips. Dinner time.

He chose Hufflepuff. Snape strode up the stairs and crossed the ninth floor corridors until he reached the entrance to the common room. It was a long story how he knew where all the common rooms were, even though he wasn't supposed to know. He wasn't supposed to know a lot of things, but he did.

The mermaid sitting on her rock had drifted asleep just like the others. The sound of the waves was peaceful. Snape cleared his throat and the painting woke up. "W-what? I mean: What's the password?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm a professor. I don't need a password." Snape stated.

She put her hands on her hips. "Well of course you do. Ever heard of _Polyjuice Potion_? I'm sure you have, now, the password, if you will."

He snarled. She wouldn't draw back. "Could I just _prove_ I'm a professor?" She looked at him suspiciously. "My name is Severus Tobias Snape. For years I've wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but Dumbledore refuses to give it to me. I'm Potions Master and head of Slytherin house. I used to be a Death Eater." He whispered the last part.

She bit her lip and swung the door open, and when he passed her he heard her mumbling something about how people never _stop_ being Death Eaters. He could hear them all instantly.

His highly sensitive ears caught the sounds of some of the snoring coming from the older boys' quarters. He crept up the stairway and peeked into an open room: that of the third year girls'. He ambled across the wooden floor and chose one: Grace Blackwell. She was short and had short blonde hair and freckles.

Approaching her bed, he took her by the throat and carried her down to the common room. She was struggling but couldn't call out for help. Her eyes showed horror and shock.

He watched her mouth and barely whisper "Professor Snape?". He nodded once, then lowered her to the ground and pressed his cold lips to her neck. He could hear her pulse and literally feel the blood as it flowed through her veins. He quickly slid his hand to her shoulder and pressed her up against the wall. His left hand pinned Grace's hands together. Before she realized what was going on, he'd gotten into what he liked to call "the Position of Death". When his hand left her throat, she squeaked. That was it. He'd bitten her before she could do anything else.

And so he fed, feeling her blood gush down into his throat. He'd always liked women for the fact that their blood was the sweetest. Once he knew she was almost dead, he released her, and, falling to the ground, she no longer had any strength to stand. Limply she turned over on her back and he saw she was crying.

He did a quick healing charm on her neck to get rid of the evidence, then washed her memory. She was panting. He bent down and his nose almost touched that of her own. She breathed, "What's happening? Professor, help me." He pressed a stone cold finger to her perfect lips and she started to cry again.

"We wouldn't want anyone to hear you, now, would we?" She couldn't even sob anymore. Her eyes were heavy and she was fighting to stay alive. He heard her take in her last breath, and her body went limp.

He levitated the body beside the bathroom sink and took some medicine out of the cabinet. Snape decided on the usual: suicide. He dropped the bottle and the potion spread all over the floor. He cursed a good portion of it down her throat. He summoned her diary and with a flick of his wand her past entries were all that of a depressed person, and her last entry was her suicide note. Snape dropped it by her side, and within twenty minutes he'd had a proper meal.

Smiling to himself, he continued prowling about Hogwarts. Luckily, this time it wasn't for food…

"W-what are w-we doing again, m-m-master?" Quirrel stammered. He look into the mirror and saw himself. Sweat was beginning to run down his ashen face. He was dizzy, and the image swam before him. A sharp pain hit him in the back of the head. He whimpered, but didn't move; he'd felt worse.

"The stone, you fool!" His master breathed as hard as he could. He wasn't dizzy anymore. "Find it!"

Another sharp pain. "Oh yes, of c-course, master." He wrapped his turban around his head. He hesitated.

"Speak you useless bag of rubbish!"

"Um… who do y-you think might know where it is?" There was a pause, and Quirrel sighed with temporary relief. He waited for his master to speak.

"Dumbledore, surely, but that's not your best bet on getting it into my hands…" He thought longer. "We need someone whom he trusts with the location. Perhaps Severus. We can inform him later. This task has been at such short notice he has no idea I'm in this castle. Also, when we tell him in the end, I suppose I can punish him for not coming when the meetings are called. I can't blame him for it; I put him here. But he could come on the weekends, at least…"

"B-brilliant, master. I will have the stone in no t-time. He _is_ only a _half-blood_; shouldn't b-be t-too hard." He stammered, glancing at his turban. He hated looking at that thing; it reminded him what the consequences of failing were.

Albus Dumbledore looked into his pensieve. "I don't believe it. Ms. Blackwell was a content student; she loved this school." He was mumbling again. Dumbledore had called a group of Professors into his office, and they still hadn't been told why.

"Excuse me, sir, but why are you talking about Grace? Did something happen to her? She's okay, isn't she?" Professor Flitwick squeaked.

"I just can't find any proof she was depressed…"

Minerva McGonagall sighed impatiently and strode out of her position in the back of the Headmaster's office. "A fifth year boy found her body about an hour ago. I can't believe you didn't know."

Flitwick gasped and shook his head. "But Hogwarts is the safest place to be in the world. That and Gringotts. How could somebody be killed inside these walls?"

"That's the problem, Flitwick. A bit slow today, aren't we?" Dripping with sarcasm, Snape's intoxicating voice slithered through the cluster of Professors from the back of the crowd. Everyone looked at him, shocked; they didn't even know he was there until the second he spoke. But, then again, they shouldn't be surprised; Snape was one of Dumbledore's favorites. They resumed their staring confusedly at Dumbledore's hunched-over back. Snape pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

"She wasn't killed." Dumbledore continued his muttering while prodding at the silvery liquids in the pensieve with his wand.

"But McGonagall just said a fifth year found her body." Flitwick was confused.

"Again, Flitwick: It's not that hard to piece together. _Suicide_." Snape was being his impatient self, as usual. Flitwick gaped.

"But she didn't seem depressed…"

"Didn't seem doesn't mean anything, sir. You're making this much more complicated than it needs to be. Perhaps it's exactly what we think it is." Snape was always good at persuading people into doing or thinking what he wants them to. Even though he wasn't being suspected of anything, it probably was best not to stir up trouble. He slowly walked up to Dumbledore's side.

Dumbledore looked up at him. His eyes were serious. "You know this looks suspicious, Severus. I can't just dismiss it." He looked back down into the swirling memories. "Believe me Severus, I thought the same thing, but because I'm in charge I can't afford to make mistakes. I just need one little piece of proof she was suicidal, just one, and I can confirm this. The diary's not enough. I need physical proof. I was thinking I could find some little detail that I missed, here."

"I understand, sir." Snape's eyes moved from the Headmaster slowly up to the shelf of memories. His hand followed to an empty spot on it. "You forgot this memory." In the empty spot suddenly appeared a small bottle. He picked it up and dumped it into the bowl. The liquids swirled. Dumbledore looked into the new memory the was swimming before him.

It showed Dumbledore in his office, gazing out the window over the grounds. His eyes moved over the happy scene. The sun was setting. Dumbledore's eyes lingered on a tree, where a young girl was balled up, crying silently. She was sitting on the side of the tree no one seemed to be able to see. The image disappeared.

"There. You should all go back into your classrooms now; class is about to begin."


	3. Stupid Bottles And Yet Another Task

So much for giving up those annoying _bottles of blood_. Snape sighed. The killing of the girl wasn't what was on his nerves; it was how Lily would have reacted if she found out. She would've been disgusted, like she was about his new friends. She would have reported it immediately.

Snape ambled into his office and looked underneath the desk. He groaned at the stupid bottles of blood that had been stolen from a muggle blood bank. Oh, how he hated those bottles! When Snape was first bitten, Dumbledore insisted on them, wanting to cause no harm to anyone else. The only bad thing about them was the fact the Snape had to fight his instincts in order to stop himself from biting innocent people. It physically pained him to do that, too.

Snape had argued many times with Dumbledore about it, and ever since he'd become an adult he'd continued to make Dumbledore happy. Just once he wanted to know what it was like to "feed", not drink from a bottle; it wasn't the same. Never again was he going to make _that_ mistake. Not if it meant feeling terrible about it later because Lily wouldn't have liked it.

The sound of students flooding the halls drifted into the dungeons. Snape walked into his classroom to stand at the front of the class while the class began. Oh goody: it was time for the first year class. If he wasn't already in a bad mood, putting Potter in the same room as him wasn't the brightest of ideas.

Snape snarled at him as he and his friends took their seats. How could someone like him even _get_ friends? Probably bribed them…

The period had come when Quirrel didn't have a single class. He was enjoying it lying on the floor of his own office, sick at his stomach. Sweat dripped down his face and mixed with a few tears, even. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. His body was shaking, and he was exhausted and didn't even bother to stand up for fear of his legs failing him. So there he lay, nose to the floor, terrified for his life.

"Afraid of a little vampire? Do you know _who you're speaking too_?" A stab of pain.

Quirrel swallowed and whimpered. "I didn't m-m-mean t-to-"

"Silence, fool! I'll tell you who you're speaking to: the _inventor_ of the word 'afraid'. Do you understand? Do you understand we stop at _nothing_ to reach the stone?"

"Y-yes, m-master, I-I-I do, m-master. I'm so s-sorry, m-m-master. P-please don't k-kill me yet, I b-beg of you, p-p-please." The pain eased away a little and for once Quirrel wasn't blind of it.

"Wipe off your tears!" The voice was menacing. He quickly did as he was told. "Now listen; this is what you're going to do. That third floor corridor is off limits for a reason. That, I assure you, is the place Dumbledore hid the stone. You will make a distraction and then check it out, understand me?"

"Of c-course, m-m-master," he stuttered. He'd agree to anything as long as it got him out of that pain. Quirrel didn't even know how he planned to create such a distraction, and didn't care because if the pain stopped, he knew he'd have enough time to think about it. _If_ the pain stopped, not _when_, _if_. He'd be surprised if it did anytime soon.

"Any other objections?"

"N-no, sir. Forgive m-me, sir; I thought you knew."

"Well of course I knew: you're afraid of anything and everything! That's why you joined me in the first place! I just thought you'd have the sense not to object to anything I say. If only you knew the last man who did that to me…" He sighed. "A lucky one, you are; I would've killed anyone else, but you already have the job and our cover can't be blown." The pain was slowly fading.

Quirrel jumped to his feet at the sound of someone at the door. To his immense surprise, Dumbledore walked in. He wasn't humming, which seemed strange for him, but he didn't say anything. His face was grave.

"Hello, Professor." Quirrel whispered, trying to compose himself.

"A student committed suicide very early this morning. Have you heard this already?" When the man shook his head, Dumbledore continued, "Professors are being asked to keep it secret. The only student who knew about it was the one who found her body; a fifth year boy. We cast a memory charm on him so he doesn't have to suffer any bad thoughts, nightmares, you know. For his own sake. The Ministry's been informed already. They asked us to watch the other children and see if they show signs they'd end up the same way. I'm still shocked anyone could ever _die_ in this castle." He was pacing.

"Oh dear," was all he managed to utter. He wrung his hands nervously.

"Please keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, Professor, that is all I came to tell you." And with an abrupt nod, he left.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," he was mumbling again. Then he whispered furiously, "_But that wasn't even us_!"

"Didn't you hear him? Suicide: None of our concern. I'm sure she was just upset about getting dumped by a boy, that's all."

Quirrel shook his head. "No one gets suicidal over _that_!" He steered himself to sit at his desk. "Oh dear, oh dear…"

"Oh, _shut up_! I agree it isn't normal but you're taking this all too seriously! Focus!"

"Oh dear, oh dear…"

"_Gosh, you're just like Wormtail_!"

"Severus, once again I must ask a favor of you," Dumbledore was saying after a long day of school. Snape sat opposite him at his large desk.

"Yes?"

"Keep an eye on Quirrel for me; he seems… strange. Suspicious, if you will. I think he was talking to himself when I spoke to him earlier. I have a theory, but until I'm sure, just watch him for me."

"Of course, Professor. Excuse me: talking to himself?" Snape asked, confused. "But is that a reason to be suspicious? You know yourself it can't be; you talk to yourself, too. I admit so do I, and Minerva… Did you hear what he was saying?"

"Oh I was sure you'd ask that. I also have a feeling he's up to something. I could barely hear him, but it went something like: 'Forgive me, I thought you knew.' Now tell me that doesn't sound odd."

"Well-"

"And when have my gut feelings failed me?"

"Well now that's-"

Fawkes let out a squawk and looked hard at Snape, almost as if he was saying he agreed with Dumbledore.

"Just watch him for me, Severus." Dumbledore murmured as Snape eyed the phoenix.

"As you wish, Headmaster."


	4. Watch Him, Severus

There it was. The heavy wooden doors to the infirmary were in front of him. Should he go in? Should he enter and ask the question who's answer he was itching to know? Snape pursed his lips. This wasn't like him, not at all. He never seemed to be lacking the knowledge of something ever since he'd been sorted into Slytherin several years ago. But he was dying to know…

He walked up quickly, his robes sweeping the ground. His appearance, if anyone ever bothered to notice, was like that of an overgrown bat. Typical for a vampire. That one first year, Hermione Granger, could've figured it out already, but maybe she wasn't as bright as Lily after all. Lily had known. She'd known Snape had changed and asked him about it. Snape had caved and told her he'd been bitten. She was one of the handful of people who knew. Strange for a half-breed; they usually were discovered and avoided, but not him. He was good at being secretive.

His pale hand hesitated before the handle. He still wasn't sure…

Oh alright. Snape gave in and opened the door just far enough so that he could slip in silently. Madame Poppy Pomfrey didn't even look up from her tending to a student with an upset stomach. He cleared his throat as he closed the door behind his back.

She looked up, alarmed, then sighed when she saw who it was. "Afternoon, Professor!" She smiled sweetly. He nodded once. When she had finished with the student- a Ravenclaw girl - she walked over to him. "Nice of you to visit me, but I'm curious…" She raised her eyebrows.

"May I speak with you? Privately?" His voice she could barely hear, but she instantly got the message.

"Of course, of course." She walked him into a small room with her desk in it. "What is it, Severus? Are you out of your bottles? I can get more…"

"Nothing like that, Poppy," he whispered quickly.

"Then what is it?" She looked concerned.

He looked away from her and watched the girl while she napped. "I need to know if you told anyone."

"Told anyone _what_?" She didn't get it. He looked at her, piercing her with his intimidating stare. One of his eyebrows raised. "Oh, your… _problem_." He nodded. "Well, no, I haven't. You know I wouldn't do something like that. Why? Did someone find out?"

"Nothing you need to know, Poppy. Thanks." He left her standing there. She didn't follow him as he headed to the door. He thought quickly and opened it, then let itself close while staying in the room. Immediately he transformed into a bat and hid in the shadows.

Poppy came out and went to give the girl a healing potion of some sort, and he decided it was his time. He chose to use Legilimency, just to make sure. He skimmed her mind. She was worried about him, and he found that she often worried about him, but no, she did not let his secret slip. He sighed and flew out a window that had been cracked, still not sure how Quirrel found out…

It was the first Quidditch match of the season, and it was Gryffindor verses Slytherin. It was growing colder out. He shivered. Quirrel took his seat a few rows underneath Snape.

Wind whistled in his ears, but he could still hear the icy voice whispering to him again.

"Hurt him. With Harry out of the way you can slip into the corridor I talked to you about earlier. I expect you have a plan?"

"Yes, m-master."

"Did you say something, Professor?" Professor Sprout turned to look at him. She was sitting on his left side, and nervously he twitched his arm closer to his body.

"N-no," he said. His cheeks flushed, adding to the pink they already were from the cold.

"Oh." She was taken aback by his blunt answer. Quirrel watched her turn back to the Quidditch field. Quickly he did the same.

Snape looked down at the back of Quirrel's head. _Watch him, Severus_. The rest of the game wasn't important to him, even if it was his House. He heard the crowd gasp and looked up, his eyes wide.

Potter was swaying from his broomstick. Back and forth he went, violently being shaken until he slipped and barely caught the broom by his hands. The broom shook harder and one of his hands released.

"_Damn_." Snape cursed under his breath, knowing he had to protect Potter at all costs, according to Dumbledore. He recognized the curse and began muttering a counter curse, the incantation barely slipping from his lips but working just the same.

It was a fight against Snape and whoever was cursing Potter. Tug-of-war, if you will.

The violent shaking slowed and kept slowing as Snape's counter curse began to work. Counter curses were never as strong as the curse itself, he knew. Still he fought. Snape knew the only way to win was for the other wizard to give up

_What was that burning? _His left foot was growing hot, but he ignored it and continued his war. It started hurting and was no longer soothing to the icy weather. He refused to look away.

"Fire! Merlin's beard, you're on _fire_!" Someone shouted. He turned to hex them for interrupting his chanting, and saw they'd been telling the truth. He stamped his foot until the fire had gone and his robe was merely smoking. Snape's face drained of color before he looked back at Potter and his broomstick.

He huffed a sigh when he saw the boy swing his leg back over the broomstick and fly away. Luckily, the other wizard had been distracted, too. He wondered who it was. He skimmed the crowd, thinking hard, then the words popped into his mind like neon sign blinking to get your attention. _Watch him, Severus_.

From then on Quirrel was guilty in Snape's mind, no matter if it was true or not. His watching got closer than it had been.

"That's just not possible, _too_ big a coincidence…" The Dark Lord was muttering crossly, still, as the Quidditch crowd departed.

Quirrel was surrounded by people and couldn't reply to his master. He couldn't tell him he knew someone had been performing a very strong counter curse. People, from all sides, brushed up against him. He jerked his left arm in front and tried to keep it away from everyone. The pain was enough already; he didn't need careless students and teachers pushing up against it to make it hurt worse. Even his sleeve, barely touching his skin, made it worse.

Once he was finally away from the crowd, he whispered furiously to his master. "I could feel a counter curse stopping it, master. The wizard had to b-be strong, I know it, sir. Though the c-curse is always s-stronger than the c-c-counter curse, it almost s-stopped me, s-sir."

"Dumbledore, I expect."

"P-pardon me sir, b-but Dumbledore was in the lavatory at the t-time. It couldn't b-be him."

"Forget it, Quirrel. Just go and work on your plan for a good distraction that'll get everyone in their common rooms and the Professors away from the third floor."

"Yes, master, I already have a p-plan. Let us go to my office and I-I will inform you."


	5. Performance Of A Lifetime

"_The time has come to put on the best performance in your life. I'll give you a push. Act for your life, or you will have none, understand?"_

Severus Snape sat in his usual place at the head table in the Great Hall. He watched as the students began their Christmas feast joyfully. Tomorrow they'd be off for home.

Finally.

He glanced at the other professors who were doing the same.

Sick.

How could someone eat cooked food? The thought was disturbing. He took a sip of his wine, which, he knew, if he swallowed it would come right back up in seconds. That'd ruin things for everyone.

_Damn, he missed wine._

He swished it around in his mouth for a while, tasting it. After several seconds, he casually lifted his wine glass to his lips and secretly spit the wine back into its place. He hated doing that, but it was the only way he could enjoy a drink, his favorite drink, in front of people. A few times he'd been alone and had actually swallowed it. Not a good idea. He'd vomited his guts out, then drifted into unconsciousness for some reason. Some unknown reason. The memory wasn't his best.

_But what one was? _

All of a sudden, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and in ran Quirrel as fast as his legs could carry him. Snape stood up from his chair, as did the other teachers, and braced himself for terrible knowledge.

Quirrel stopped about halfway to the head table, and couldn't make it anymore. He'd run all the way from where he'd been (which was, in fact, a very far away place in the castle). He swayed where he stood after the pain hit him. He felt like he'd been hit upside the head with a broomstick, a cauldron, a couple dozen rocks cakes Hagrid had made, especially crunchy, and one of those muggle contraptions called a, what was it… _hammer_. His vision came in doubles.

"TROLL!" He shouted, knowing his yelling could secure a slot in time where the pain would go away, if only for a little while. The better he did, the quicker that slot in time would come.

Students gasped and gaped. Forks were dropped and glasses broken in surprise. Food was dropped over the robes of the children. The teachers stared in shock, but Dumbledore was the only one who looked alarmed.

_Dumbledore wasn't enough._

The pain increased. "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS!!" He looked hopefully at the teachers, his eyes pleading. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" The pain was searing now, and he didn't know why. He was shivering and sweating at the same time.

A cold sweat.

The room seemed to be closing in on him. The Hall was silent. He looked at Dumbledore, trying to sound normal, and murmured, "Thought you ought to know…"

The screaming started. Then all went black.

He'd done his job.

Snape looked around at the students and teachers, and silently slipped away from all the chaos, knowing what he was doing. The act had sounded and even looked convincing, even to him, but he had a gut feeling Quirrel had done something wrong. He closed the door behind him and stood, mulling things over in his brilliant mind.

After watching Quirrel, as Dumbledore had asked for him to do, he'd found that the new professor had been nosy, specifically about the Sorcerer's Stone. Quirrel was recently told, as were some other teachers that hadn't been told the first time, where the stone had been placed by no other than Dumbledore himself.

Snape's gut told him the amateur wanted the stone for himself. He bolted for the third floor.

Quirrel stood up as the pain evaporated. He shook his head and ran past the last of the students exiting the Great Hall to complete his task.

"You did well."

"Thank you, m-master." He sprinted up the stairs and entered the third floor, going into the corridor, looking for the door Dumbledore had described. Wooden, no, that one was steel. That one was stone…

Found it.

He looked at the wooden door at the end of the corridor and inwardly rejoiced as he ran to open it.

_What was that? Oh dear…_

Were those footsteps?

Snape curiously turned into the forbidden corridor and headed for that lone wooden door, again, his robes fluttering behind him regally. He gingerly opened the door, shocked at what he found inside…

Quirrel gasped. "S-severus!"

Snape glared at the scrawny man before him and closed the door behind him. He knew he'd kill the man and didn't wish to be caught. "You!" He sneered, narrowing his cold, dark eyes.

"I can explain, Severus, r-really!"

Snape whipped his wand out faster than a man could say "Olivander's". He pointed it directly at the man's chest. He watched his opponent slowly raise his hands in surrender.

But it wasn't enough.

"_Crucio_!"

Quirrel ducked and Snape released the curse, but not before it skimmed the skin of the third being in the room.

Quirrel turned around at the low growling coming from three different heads at the same time. Snape's face went paler than it usually was, which was rare. He stared up at Hagrid's "pet", Fluffy.

"Don't. Move." Snape said quietly.

"Oh dear."

That was enough to set the dog off. It pounced as far forward as it could go and onto Snape. The dog had pinned him to the floor.

"Do something!" He shouted as he watched his wand roll across the room.

He looked at the other man who'd frozen, and then he watched him slowly turn his head to one side, then the other, his eyes not moving from the monster.

Fluffy growled and lowered his nose to Snape's face. Teeth were bared.

_Click_.

Snape groaned when he realized Quirrel had left the room.

"Damn!" He tried to push the dog off him. "Damn it!"

Fluffy stepped off him after Snape had forcefully kicked him where it hurt. He whimpered once. Snape scrambled across the room after his wand, then was caught by the ankle. He heard the tearing of flesh as the dog sank its teeth into the meat. He lurched for his wand and ignored the pain. He finally grasped it in his hands, but Fluffy dragged him across the room, back to where he could fight him properly, as the chain around his feet was running short.

Snape flicked his wand over his shoulder, casting a temporarily confusing spell. The jinx worked. He shot out of the room. When he slammed the door shut behind him, the dog had snapped out of it and was barking again.

He panted and rushed to the sound of startled voices…

It was Potter. Potter and his friend, little Miss Granger, the smartass. He slumped against the doorframe of the girls lavatory they all were in. Dumbledore, McGonagall and the others were waiting for an explanation. Snape saw what the problem was but didn't care to hear the boy's answer; anyone could knock a troll out, easy.

He caught his breath when he watched Potter glance at him, confused.

_Damn, he looked like his dad_. Except his eyes. Snape melted when he saw his eyes. _Lily's eyes._

He looked down at what the brat was staring at: his ankle. He saw the torn skin and blood that had gushed out, trailing down into his shoe. He hurriedly covered it with his cloak and looked up at Potter. They made eye contact. It was all Snape could do not to fall to his knees and ask Lily to forgive him. _Beg_ her to forgive him. He reminded himself it was Potter, not Lily.

His eyes showed a simple message that _anyone_, no matter how dumb they were, could understand easily: You didn't see that.

Clearly Potter understood.

Potter understood _something_, for once…


	6. Wings

_He could smell him._

In the castle. Awake. Snape could even here that bastard's heart beating. The pace was quick and shallow. He knew Snape was coming. He knew he was after him. Snape smiled malevolently to himself as he heard Quirrel's footsteps coming around the corner. He was fast and swept himself into the shadows across the corridor. He was unseen.

Quirrel knew that Snape was looking for him after finding him in that room with Fluffy. He watched him swing around the corner, but it was too late, for Snape had his robes in his grip firmly, and he pressed him up against the wall, lifting the man up so their faces were level.

"_You_." He said, snarling. There was that garlic again. Snape started shaking. Quirrel hands found Snape's wrists. His palms were sweaty and her nervously tried to pry the vampire's fingers off him, but it was no use. Vampires were too strong.

"Good evening, Severus," he said with a squeak. "W-what bring you ab-bout the castle t-t-tonight?"

"Oh shut up." He whispered furiously. His eyes were burning. "You know why I'm here."

"Oh! Y-you mean about the st-stone! Oh, well, I just got l-lost. Yeah, lost, that's all." He stuttered. He was the worst liar Snape had encountered for years.

"Lost my _ass_." Snape said, bringing his nose not an inch from Quirrel's. The man swallowed in fear and his eyes widened. "You need to tell me the truth here and now."

"About what?"

Snape had had enough, so he extended his fangs. They throbbed when they met the air, which smelled freshly of _prey_. But Snape wasn't planning on eating this coward. Not tonight, at least. "I know what you're up to, Quirrel. You were attempting to steal the stone. I want to know why."

"Oh dear, um, well, yes… You want to know w-why? Why I _want _the st-stone? Is that all you w-want to know?"

"No, of course not! I want to know why you _thought_ you could steal it." He opened his mouth and breathed on Quirrel's face, making the man whimper. His fangs were killing him. "Be careful what your answer is." He brushed the tip of his fangs on a pulsing vein in his neck. Quirrel's breathing quickened.

"Severus, I-" He stopped when Snape turned his head quickly in the other direction.

He'd heard another heart beat, half as fast as Quirrel's. _Damn_. Dumbledore had handed the invisibility cloak down to miniature Potter. The heart beat was close, oh, so close. He reached one hand out and snatched the air in front of it. Nothing. But… his fingernail had brushed _cloth_. He knew it. Snape snarled and flicked his head back to Quirrel.

"We'll finish this _later_." He spat through gritted teeth. He inhaled and the garlic was too much. He heard Potter's footsteps retreating as fast as he knew he could. Finally. He released Quirrel's robes, but pressed his chest up against his. "I expect you also to tell me how you know about me." And he backed up. That split second, Quirrel vanished in a flash of robes.

He stalked back to the dungeons. And Dumbledore was _clueless_. He cursed under his breath, not knowing how Quirrel could even _enter _the castle with Dumbledore around. Snape paced in his study for hours, trying to figure it out. Finally it was five o'clock in the morning, and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He stopped pacing abruptly. His back was already aching just between his shoulder blades. The fangs couldn't be kept hidden anymore. The sprang out from his gums, and he through his head back. The searing, ripping pain came and his wings sprouted, and what a large wingspan at that. If only Lily could've seen him like this, with beautiful wings and the feline-like grace of the usual vampire.

Snape flew down the hall of the dungeons and up the spiraling staircase. Out through the top and into the ice-cold skies above, he flew. The wind whipped his greasy black hair over his eyes, but he didn't care. He stalled when flying up, hanging in mid-air over the Black Lake. He laughed into the night air, loving the moist taste of it. Then he started falling.

Down he went, feet first, about to plunge into the half-way frozen waters of the lake. He smiled again, to himself, and just before his feet went in he swept himself level with the Black Lake to skim it. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the water and his fast flying slowed. How long had it been since he could properly enjoy the flight of himself in bat form? It was ridiculous how some people still thought they could turn into bats completely. It was just the wings, that was all. The best part. The wings. But he never used them often enough, it seemed. No matter how many nights he could spend flying, the thrill never lessened for him. That must be why vampires could live forever: To keep flying.

He went back up and circled the tower where the Headmaster's office remained. He hovered outside the window, then held his breath, making his density go down suddenly. Even though it was unhealthy, and could put him in Saint Mungo's for weeks recovering his usual form, he still used that ability, along with the others. He inched through the window, the glass not really touching him. After getting on the inside of the office window, he let out his breath and regained his original density. Solid, once more. He relaxed his wings so he gracefully landed on his feet, his robes flowing at his ankles. Then he crouched, folding the wings back into his flesh, and taking his fangs back in. He heard them all snoring, the pictures.

Snape glided over to the door where Dumbledore's quarters were, and he floated through them effortlessly. Dumbledore was sleeping on his back, in the center of his king-sized bed, hands folded over his chest. He went up to the foot of the bed and waited for Dumbledore to answer him.

Dumbledore's silver eyebrow twitched up into his forehead. "Severus? What is it? Is everything okay?" He asked quietly. Dumbledore always knew when Snape was coming for a little early morning visit.

Snape's lips parted. He took in a breath. "Headmaster, it's Quirrel. He's after the Sorcerer's Stone." He said firmly. Dumbledore didn't budge at the news.

"And?"

"You aren't surprised? This could be potentially threatening news, sir."

"No, Severus. I am not surprised. I know he has his eye out for greater things. I have known that since the day we met. This news does not surprise me, sadly. Now tell me why you have waken me at this time."

"He knows." Snape breathed. The air barely escaped his thin lips, but Dumbledore snapped up in bed anyways.

"Knows what?" He grabbed his spectacles and shoved them up his crooked nose. Then he hopped out of bed and came around to meet Snape's cold gaze. "What does he know, Severus?"

"H-he…" Snape couldn't finish. He was so angry a lump came to his throat. Hot tears burnt into the back of his eyes. He pushed them back and took a deep breath, trying to settle himself, trying to take control of his monster instincts.

Dumbledore summoned his wand and hugged Snape's arms to his sides with all the strength he had. Snape screamed with outrage, throwing his head back again. He ripped his arms out of Dumbledore's hold and received a wand prodding into his neck. He was panting. Snape crouched and let his wings come out to fast, the skin ripping like a normal human's and letting streams of unused blood running down his back. His fangs grew and he growled at Dumbledore.

"Severus, keep a hold of yourself!" He whispered harshly. Snape shook his head and growled at the man, his vision red. "What does Quirrel know?"

"He knows this!" He shouted, flinging himself into the air to hover at the top of the extremely tall ceiling. He looked down at Dumbledore, his gaze hostile. "Tell me how he knows!" Sometimes it was just better to hope Dumbledore knew everything, and knew how to make it all better. He breathed heavily and flapped his wings forcefully.

"Severus, believe me, I've no idea! Please, Severus! Calm down!"

Snape squinted, then dropped to the ground, not minding the snapping of the bones in his ankles. Pain, he could take it, no problem. They'd be healed in an hours time. But the knowledge that someone else knew his secret? Forever haunting. His wings ripped back into his back, but his fangs stayed revealed.

"You. Don't. Know." He said blankly.

"No, I do not, but he hasn't let it leak yet, now, has he? No. You shouldn't worry about it, Severus! People were bound to find out eventually." He said.

Snape pondered his words, then decided what his next actions were going to be. "I'm going to get him." He said, turning on his heal and heading for the large wooden doors.

"Severus, don't make me do this! Damn it it's the only other way you'll listen!" Dumbledore pointed his wand at the vampire's back. "I'll do it, Severus! Not another step!" Snape refused to back down, but instantly regretted it.

"Crucio!" Dumbledore murmured. The jet of light left Snape paralyzed. He'd stopped moving out of sheer pain.

He bent over and fell to his knees, his fingernails digging into the wooden floor where past marks had been made because of the same reason. He gritted his teeth and tried to steady his breathing.

"Severus!"

He let go and his fangs went back in. "Sorry, Headmaster." He said quietly. The pain stopped but he knew Dumbledore's wand still pointed at him. For any vampire, pain was all they needed in order to be controlled. Enough pain, and they were useless fighting back. Dumbledore was too powerful. Nobody else could make Snape do what he had.

"Severus, let it go. I will take care of it." Snape twitched upward but froze at the old man's voice again. "Severus!" It warned. He continued his exit, but that time slowly and sleepily.

"Take care of it soon." He said, and without turning back, he left Dumbledore standing in the middle of his own office.


End file.
